


Take Some Time To Patch Me Up Inside

by plinys



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/F, Minor Injuries, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 12:37:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3134771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy comes home a bit banged up from "work" and Angie looks after her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Some Time To Patch Me Up Inside

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god so it's been one episode (okay technically two) and I am so on board this shipping train (though really with me you all should have expected this)!

There’s a little knock at the door to her room, a familiar patterned knock, three short raps, that instantly let’s Peggy know who is on the other side.

The words, “come in,” are barely off of her lips before the other woman has opened the door and instantly made herself at home in Peggy’s space like she always does.

In the reflection from her vanity mirror, Peggy can see Angie spread out across her bed as though she belongs there, “I was wondering if you had any rouge. I ran out this morning and with an audition tomorrow-“

“Yes, I have plenty, take as much as you need,” Peggy says, this time turning away from her mirror to offer her friend the aforementioned item.

“Oh English, you’re-“ but it’s just then that she’s turned around, and Peggy watches the way Angie’s eyes widen with a look of confusion before her lips purse in displeasure. “What happened to you?”

“Ah, this, well you see,” she had forgotten about that when Angie had knocked on the door.

It was silly really, and she had meant to cover the cut with makeup, had even been preparing too before the knock at her door, but it was too late now.

There was no easy way for her to explain it. Telling the truth was obviously out of the question. While coming up with some excuse for her injury seemed just as impossible when faced with Angie’s innocently worried expression.

“It’s nothing,” she just insists instead of answering the question.

That gets a dismayed noise out of Angie, but she sits up and pats the seat beside her on the bed, a seat that Peggy goes and settles into a moment later.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Angie replies softly, before her hands come up, to hover around the side of Peggy’s face.

It’s only once she’s given a little nod that Angie moves forward, her fingers coming up to brush lightly against the cut on Peggy’s cheekbone and the light bruising underneath it that will no doubt blossom into something dark and ugly in a few hours. There’s something pleasant about the sensation, the light ghosting of fingertips that has Peggy closing her eyes and relaxing far more than she would have under any other circumstances.

“Peggy-“

“Don’t worry,” she cuts her off, with a soft reassuring tone.

“I often think it’s my job to worry about you,” Angie admits, “since you don’t seem to be able to manage it.”

“I believe that should be the other way around,” Peggy insists, “I’m the one watching over you.”

Though her friend gives a little dismissive snort to that comment, having absolutely no idea how much Peggy worries about her and all the other girls. She’s putting them all at risk just being in the building, but with Angie it’s more than that because they’re friends, they’re closer than she is with any of the other girls, and that puts her in more danger than any of the others.

She’s not sure she would be able to stand losing anyone else.

She cracks open her eyes at that thought, and are met instantly with Angie’s still worried gaze.

“There was some trouble at work,” she lies, hoping that will ease the other woman’s worry a bit, after all, it’s the closest to the truth that Peggy can give.

“The _phone_ company,” Angie says, her voice carrying only the slightest note of skepticism.

It’s not an unfamiliar tone, and one that has appeared a number of times before, though usually that was when Peggy was sneaking in past curfew, and came in to find a worried Angie laying on her bed as though she had been waiting up for her.

One day that would get them in trouble, she was sure of it.

 “Peggy, you work at the phone company.”

“It wasn’t exactly at work,” _no, technically it was doing illegal work that was undermining the efforts of her coworkers._

“Was it a man?”

There’s a frown at her lips now, a worried one, and her fingers which had been soft upon Peggy’s cheek retreat all at once to curl up against her lap.

“Angie-“

“If it was, you can tell me,” Angie insists, “there are things a woman could do in this situation. I heard one of the other girls talking to Mrs. Fry about this sort of thing.”

“Angie-“

“Though if you just tell me who he is, I’ll find him and make sure he’s never hurts you again.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

Angie doesn’t have an immediate answer to that, but she scrunches up her brow and says, “I’d manage it.”

“Oh yes, I imagine you could find a way.”

That gets a little laugh out of Angie, a soft thing and her worried frown fades away. She leans forward pulling Peggy towards her into a warm and familiar embrace, one that Peggy welcomes greedily.

“Please, Peggy, remember that I’m here, if you ever need _anything_ , I’m your girl.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good,” she says, before pulling away and giving Peggy another little look, “now how about we see if we can’t find a way to make you look presentable again.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re lucky us theater girls know a few makeup tricks!”

 


End file.
